Our mother struggled with debilitating anxiety, plagued by frightening, unwanted thoughts. It was relentless, and though there were months of near normality, even years, it always resurfaced.
I’m not sure she ever pulled out of it. Our mother rarely left the house unless it was for a doctor’s appointment or something similar, and my father always took the time off, no matter how busy he was, to go with her. She couldn’t bear being alone, but also couldn’t bear people.
I can’t remember a single time our mother took us to the park, events, school, and so on. We always ordered meals in or cooked, ordered movies from home. If there was somewhere Bee and I wanted to go, our father or a nanny would take us, and our mother would be there when we got back with snacks, ready to hear about our adventures. She showered us with love as though we were her entire world, and was content like that. It was safe, and she could be herself, and that’s all she ever wanted.
My father loved my mother deeply, fawned over her in a way that made me want that for myself. He was happy to help her with her limitations, gracious to be allowed to be her support and her companion. He adoredand cherished her and respected her boundaries without question.
She was our ballerina in a snow globe—that’s what I imagined. A beautiful, whimsical being, tucked away and kept safe. Yet it couldn’t save her from everything. Cancer found her regardless of her glittering dome.
I’d just finished college when she died. Her battle with stage four breast cancer was swift. It was a relief that her suffering wasn’t prolonged. I recall her saying she had no regrets, that her life was perfect, exactly as it was.
It was such a curious concept to me. She’d somehow gotten everything she wanted and felt fulfilled, even in her limited world. She was happy and at peace, and that’s all she wanted above all else.
That’s what I was after with my life—that sense of understanding and contentment. I longed to know the feeling of such profound love, to find my ideal world and experience every second within it. I feared I’d never find it. But perhaps it could still find me.
Reaching the Beaumont Antiquities building, I paused and typed a reply before going through the doors. I’d let the text linger unanswered long enough.
Me:Glad to see Bill is enjoying his treats, but despite the bribes, he still isn’t giving up your name. I don’t know what to put you in my contacts as?
I stood there for what felt like an eternity; the street sounds fading to nothing but the sound of my bated breath. Peoplehurried by, yet I stayed rooted. I was mentally willing her reply.
Three dots appeared; she was typing. My smile was instantaneous.
Her:My name is Sybil.
My smile grew impossibly bigger.“Sybil,”I whispered, wanting to feel it on my lips.
“What’s got you smiling, big brother?” Bee’s voice cut through the cloud I’d found myself in, and my head snapped up. Bee placed her hand on my arm, handing me a coffee and leaning in to eavesdrop on my messages. “I got you an Americano.”
I didn’t bother hiding my screen from her as I took the hot cup.
She sucked in a breath. “Is thather?”She nearly screamed it, her hands gripping my arm. “Please tell me it is!”
I chuckled, still coming to terms with knowing Sybil’s name at last. “It is.”
Bee began jumping excitedly, the passersby giving us angry looks as she jostled a few. “Oh mygosh,Nash, you so love her. The smile on your face was priceless. I saw it from a few feet away, and I just knew. I said to myself,now that is a gentleman in love.”
I was shaking my head, not willing to reply and egg her on.
“Do you really think she could be PERL?” she went on.
I’d shared my suspicions with her, trying to see what she thought of the idea. “I honestly don’t know,” I replied.
“Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! I mean, what if she is, and here you are, her adoringthief?I mean, that’s just fucking beautiful!”
“Geez,Bee.” I tried to calm her with a hand on her shoulder. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. There are nineteen other prospects equally qualified to be PERL,” I assured.
“Well, you know,bro, there’s an easy way to figure it out.”
I looked at her, urging her to share this idea with my gaze.
“Just get her to comment on something with color, see if she can see it. If she stumbles, then you’ll know.” She shrugged as though it were that simple.
“You have a point.” I plumped my bottom lip and nodded in agreement.
“Wellyeah!I was planning to do this with the other suspects on the list. I’m going to track down each and ambush them with a random color question. Any stumble would make it obvious.”
I could see how she’d go about this, and it wasn’t pretty. Bee ambushing people on the street wasn’t likely to go over well. There were enough random weirdos approaching on the streets of New York without one of them being my sister. Most would stumble at a stranger assailing them like that. Her plan could use finesse.
